FourLetter Name
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Lincoln and Sara seek solace in each other after losing everything. Very Angsty and kids! rated M for a reason!


OKEE...I made myself write a Linc/Sara fic. But don't judge just yet M/S shippers! It's not exactly mushy and romantic. I haven't the willpower to go that far with them yet. It was hard enough writing this, being a diehard m/s fan. But i did! squeee! i'm strangely proud of myself.

Hope you enjoy my first L/S romance...type-thing.

Owning PB...is a dream i can only pass down to my children, and they shall in turn pass it down to their children, and so on and so forth...alas... :P

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I've learned to accept the reality of our relationship now.

I know that when you kiss me, it's to remind yourself of the first kiss you ever shared with him. When your tongue is delved into the darkness of my mouth and you're sliding your hands up my forearms, I know that it is the beginning of yet another desperate attempt for solace.

I know that when your fingers trace imaginary lines across my chest, you're seeing things I cannot. My skin is blank, but as you stare at it and sigh, I know you are seeing the ink that you had grown so accustomed to.

I know the exact changes in your mood during these moments.

When your nails are scratching at my back, you feel excitement.

As your mouth is trailing down my stomach, you feel arousal.

The moment your fingers meet the button of my jeans, you feel anticipation.

And then, as it is every time, when I've flipped us over and prepare to take you, your eyes grow sad.

I know that you are remembering him.

But you never object when I ask you if you want to stop.

Instead you reach down and pull me in, and I know it's to mask the pain that has left your heart broken beyond repair.

Our bodies grow hot as we move, you're reaching for the solace you so desperately need, and I'm giving it to you for more reasons than one.

I know what it feels like to have lost your love.

And this is one way, out of many, that we can make the pain go away…even for just awhile.

I push into you with no real sense of what I'm doing, or who I even am, and I know that you are doing just the same. We feed off of each other's pain, turning it into temporary pleasure just to get by another day in the lives we no longer want to live.

The nails I've become so used to dig into my flesh, and the scent of light perfume and sweat and sadness overcome me all at once. I whisper your name, not out of habit, but to give you just a small dose of love.

It's my only way of telling you I care, even if I must force the name from my lips.

You know I don't love you…not like he did.

And, in turn, I know that your love is something I will never have.

It bled away with him.

It died when he took his last breath.

Your cream-colored thighs are putty in my hands, I pull them up and push them down and repeat myself more times than I can count.

With every thrust the pain dulls.

I can see the indifference in your eyes even now.

But a few harder jolts into you and the sharpness of our pitiful pleasure quest brings you to life for just a second, and those cold orbs grow sharp and determined as you strain for relief.

It's this moment I've committed to memory with the utmost detail.

My breath is hot, my throat dry, and I'm forcing your four-letter name from my lips once again.

The heat is searing through us and your head falls as you arch your back in your orgasm, and the scream is uttered from the deepest, darkest corner of your soul.

My brother's name fills the suffocating air around us.

It even seems to echo in the aftermath of our nightly routine.

I make my lips form your name, Sara, and yours only.

I want to pretend, just as you do, that I'm with the person I love.

I want to see HER when I look at you and scream HER name when I reach my peak.

But I don't.

Because for some reason I've yet to understand, you're happiness, however short-lived it may be, means more to me than my own.

Perhaps I'm trying to keep your soul alive. It's the least I could do for him…

Or maybe I'm wrong in thinking I don't feel anything for you.

Maybe our shared losses have brought us a different kind of love than most have.

Love laced with agony, a dim light in the darkness of our lives.

It doesn't sound like much…

But it's all I can give to you.


End file.
